


Pilot

by greenieboy



Series: Mrs and Mrs Spooky: An X File AU [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - X Files, F/F, i'm gonna write more and it will get gayer trust me, it's as shippy as the actual x files pilot is but, its an x files au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26032978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenieboy/pseuds/greenieboy
Summary: «The doctor clears her throat eventually. “Agent Troi, I’m Doctor Beverly Crusher. I’ve just been assigned to the X Files. To… work with you.” She approaches the woman and holds out her hand, smiling very amicably.“Really? I’d say it’s very nice to be so highly regarded,” Deanna states, and her tone is soft and yet very matter-of-fact as she shakes the extended hand before her. Then, she stands, projector canister in her grasp, and says, “I’m almost afraid to ask who you upset to be saddled with this detail, Doctor Crusher.”»Doctor Beverly Crusher is assigned to help Agent Deanna Troi with her work on the X Files. (previously titled Mrs and Mrs Spooky)
Relationships: Beverly Crusher/Deanna Troi
Series: Mrs and Mrs Spooky: An X File AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894519
Comments: 20
Kudos: 38





	1. chapter i

**Author's Note:**

> howdy. this is the first part of my attempt at an x files au. the gang and i decided beverly/deanna were perfect for this au so here i go. it's a rly daunting project but i'm rly hoping to stick to it. if i don't, it'll just be a cool concept we had once :))

The door to Chief Picard’s office closes behind Beverly, and she stands there in the corridor for a moment, as if her brain hasn’t fully comprehended what just occurred. She’s been reassigned. To a new project. The X Files. More specifically, to  _ debunk _ the X Files. Beverly almost wants to laugh out of sheer incredulity, but she thinks she might flip a table if she lets herself indulge in anything more powerful than shock. Dully, she thinks she should start walking to the elevator, but she doesn’t actually move until she hears another agent clear his throat behind her. She apologizes briefly and turns on her heel, striding through the bullpen to the elevators, hitting the little silver button with more force than is really necessary. Or, maybe it is necessary for her. She had been  _ fine _ teaching at the academy. Just fine. Her courses had produced some of the highest scores on exams seen in the FBI in decades, and her students had been nothing short of amazing. But now, suddenly, she’s leaving all of that… for a basement office with no heat or windows, filled to the brim with phony ghost sightings and abduction reports. Beverly inhales deeply as the doors to the elevator open.

She adjusts the bag on her shoulder as she enters the elevator.  _ The X Files.  _ She nearly scoffs. Just about everyone at the bureau has heard them. The more extreme cases that end up in that basement office are good for a laugh or two, but ultimately nobody really believes any of them. Beverly sighs, because someone  _ does _ believe them. Agent Deanna Troi. Spooky Troi. Beverly remembers hearing that nickname a few times during her time at Quantico. She hadn’t taught Agent Troi, of course; Beverly is a medical doctor, and as far as she knows, Agent Troi is a psychologist and a profiler. A damn good profiler apparently, seeing as her success is what‘s given her the opportunity to dive into the X Files. But why does Beverly have to as well? The control panel on the wall dings, and already Beverly misses her lab dearly.

There aren’t many offices on the basement floor, but Agent Troi’s office is all the way at the end. Beverly feels like she’s doing the career walk-of-shame, shuffling her feet on the linoleum. It seems like time is standing still, like it’s not passing at all, and it’s as though that door across from her stretches out farther and farther away. She really doesn’t want to make it to the end of the hall. But her legs carry her across the distance, and soon she’s knocking on the door with “Deanna Troi, Special Agent” on it. Will her name end up on this door? Beverly shudders to think, twisting the doorknob and entering as someone answers.

“Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted.”

The voice belongs to none other than Agent Troi herself, hunched over a desk with a projector canister and a box of slides. Beverly takes a moment to glance around the office, at the newspaper clippings and missing persons’ reports on the walls, the dozens of case files stacked on the desk like Jenga, the big “I WANT TO BELIEVE” poster smack dab in the middle of the room. Ultimately, her eyes settle on Troi. When Beverly says that all the air got sucked out of the room, she means she wasn’t expecting Agent Deanna Troi to look like…  _ that. _ Long, black, curly hair surrounding a small, yet elegant face with deep dark eyes and red lips. Beverly wants to curse; she’s pretty.

The doctor clears her throat eventually. “Agent Troi, I’m Doctor Beverly Crusher. I’ve just been assigned to the X Files. To… work with you.” She approaches the woman and holds out her hand, smiling very amicably.

“Really? I’d say it’s very nice to be so highly regarded,” Deanna states, and her tone is soft and yet very matter-of-fact as she shakes the extended hand before her. Then, she stands, projector canister in her grasp, and says, “I’m almost afraid to ask who you upset to be saddled with this detail, Doctor Crusher.” Or, that’s what Beverly  _ thinks _ she said. Unfortunately, the doctor had been distracted by, well.. Agent Troi’s height. She stands several inches shorter than Beverly herself, and Beverly cannot believe that  _ this _ woman is Agent Deanna Troi. Big, bad Spooky Troi, with her insane theories and creepy fascination with dead-end cold cases. Everyone’s heard of Deanna, sure; her reputation precedes her. But Beverly supposes not many people have met her, if the idle gossip she’s heard in the file room is anything to go off of.

“I -” Beverly begins, swiftly retracting her hand after realizing she hadn’t released Deanna’s for a while too long. “I didn’t upset anyone. Chief Picard is trusting me with this assignment, and I’m looking forward to looking with you.” She tries her hardest to sound sure of herself and not  _ defensive. _

Deanna smiles, looking very genuine, and says, “Well, that’s a first.” She carries the canister to the projector across the room, securing it as she speaks. “You know, I was a bit under the impression that you were sent to, ehm… spy, on me.” She throws a cheeky grin Beverly’s way.

It ruffles Beverly somewhat. “Look Agent Troi, I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but if you have any doubts about me or my qualifications, I-”

Deanna shakes her head. “No, no you are  _ very _ qualified.” She reaches over with her entire body to snag a file not so far off, holding it in the air. “I uh, took the time to read your file,” she says. “You’re a medical doctor, and you teach at the academy. Or well, taught.” Beverly tries not to feel bitter about Deann’s use of  _ taught. _ The agent goes on, “I believe you were teaching there when I was at Quantico. A few of my friends had your courses. They all spoke very highly of you. Said you were one of the best teachers there.”

“Did they?” Beverly questions, sort of following Deanna across the room. “And do you believe them?”

Deanna looks up, still smiling, and Beverly’s swiftly coming to the conclusion that the woman has a wonderful smile as she says, “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to find out. Though, I doubt you’ll be doing much teaching down here.” She strides across the room on her little legs and flicks off the light switch, the projector beside Beverly becoming the only source of light.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that…” Beverly mumbles quietly, thinking she could teach Deanna a thing or two about rationality. If the file room whispers are even somewhat true (although, with how normal Deanna seems, Beverly’s sort of beginning to wonder if misogyny is the only spooky thing at work).

  
  


Beverly is sorely mistaken about how “normal” Agent Troi seems. The second she begins her slideshow on the mutilated cattle of Nacogdoches, Texas (including several gory images of bloody cows and sheep), Beverly regrets ever considering the idea of Deanna being rational. The case is strange, she’ll give her partner that. Cattle had been attacked on almost a weekly basis, exsanguinated cleanly and without any evidence, and recently a dead human body, with odd burn marks covering the lower back and thighs, had joined the list of exsanguinated corpses. While the case is peculiar, Beverly can’t justify claiming these attacks were performed by extraterrestrials. Which is what Deanna believes. Beverly, however, thinks this could be the work of an extremely twisted university student, seeing as how Nacogodches is a college town with a large student body and an excellent nursing program. This sparks a row between them (though it’s not at all heated or angry in the slightest), Deanna not budging from her defence of an alien explanation and Beverly staying firmly skeptical. Vaguely, she wonders if this is how most of her time will be spent on the X Files.

“Doctor Crusher,” Deanna says, approaching Beverly after a long pause in their conversation. Beverly turns to glance at the woman. Seeing Deanna up close, it’s hard for Beverly to not be distracted by how lovely she is. And how short she is. “Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?”

Beverly wants to groan. But instead, she says, “Logically, I would have to say no. Simply speaking, the energy requirements as well as advancements in aerospace technology necessary for crafts to enter and travel through the vacuum of space exceed anything we’ve developed in the last fifty years.”

“Conventional wisdom,” Deanna remarks. “I like to think of the universe as more…  _ open-ended _ than it seems. And when convention and science no longer offer us answers, might we not then turn to the fantastic as a plausibility?”

“Only when the “fantastic” enters the realm of plausibility.  _ If _ it ever does,” Beverly replies, crossing her arms over her chest.

Deanna shakes her head, backing away to lean against her desk. “You’re very well spoken, Beverly,” she says with total sincerity, and it catches Beverly completely off guard. She can feel her face warm, and she looks anywhere but Deanna for a moment. The agent reaches for a file. “You know, the same day the cattle mutilations started, three young college freshmans fell into comas during their respective classes, all at the exact same time?” Beverly raises her eyebrows, feeling shocked (and slightly embarrassed) at the information. Deanna hands Beverly the file. “We can stand here and disagree all we like, but crimes have been committed and it’s our duty to find whoever is committing them. Read over the file, tell me what you think. I want to hear your opinion.”

Beverly nods, accepting the folder. She quickly carries herself to a chair in front of Deanna’s desk, removing her blazer and hanging in on the armrest. As soon as she’s seated, Deanna leaves the office in a stride, and Beverly is thankful for a second alone. She exhales, deflating in her seat with the case file in her lap. She hadn’t expected Deanna to be so passionate, and yet so respectful. Beverly has worked with her share of agents, but none of them were ever as well mannered as Agent Troi was during their “disagreement,” if one could even call it that.  _ Maybe working here won’t be so terrible.  _ Staring at the ceiling, she wonders if working on the X Files, working with Deanna will change her opinion of all of this.  _ What if I start believing in aliens? _ Beverly almost laughs at herself, rubbing under her eye as she finally cracks open the file. In the same instance, she hears the scraping of what sounds like the feet of… furniture? On the floor outside the office. Beverly’s out of her chair in seconds, opening the office door to see Deanna pushing a desk down the hall (and very obviously struggling at the same time). It takes Beverly a moment to understand what Deanna is doing.

“Is that… for me?” She asks with uncertainty.

Deanna stands up straight, tucking hair behind her ear with a shy smile. “Uhm, yes, it is,” she says. “I wasn’t aware that you would be joining me today. I had planned to get this into the office tomorrow before you came.”

Beverly suddenly feels very touched at Deanna’s thoughtfulness. She places the folder in her hands onto a nearby filing cabinet and glances at Deanna. “Would you like a hand?”

Deanna’s grin widens. “I would love one.” Beverly smiles and approaches Deanna as the smaller woman removes her own blazer and tosses it onto the desk, now standing in a blue button up and slacks. Beverly has to remind herself to keep her thoughts in check. She places her hands on the edge of the desk as Deanna says, “Push on three. One… two.. three!”

With their collective strength, they manage to get the desk into the office in under fifteen minutes, which Beverly considers their first accomplishment as a team. She tells Deanna that, and the woman replies by saying they should celebrate, going to her desk and opening a drawer with a concerning amount of chocolate products in it. Beverly thinks to ask how expensive her dentist’s bill is when the telephone on Deanna’s desk rings.

“We’ll request some things for your desk soon,” she tells Beverly, before asking the phone. “Agent Troi. Oh hi, Midge. Uh huh? What have you got for me?” She glances to Beverly as the person on the other end talks. Her eyes widen, and Beverly feels a little pit form in her stomach for some reason. “Midge, you didn’t! You shouldn’t have. Oh, I could kiss you, Midge! Don’t tell your husband that.” She winks at Beverly; Beverly flushes and tries to hide her face behind a file. “Thank you, I’ll come by to collect them soon.” She hangs up and falls into her desk chair, reaching for chocolate from her drawer.

“What was that about?” Beverly asks after a moment.

Deanna startles. “Oh! Agent Winston got my request fast tracked,” she says with a proud expression. Beverly raises her eyebrow. “We leave for Nacogdoches tomorrow, at nine a.m.”

“How exciting,” Beverly says dryly, hiding her face with the file again.

  
  


Beverly opens the door to the passenger side of the rental car, dropping down into the seat and adjusting her button up as she says, “You neglected to mention yesterday that this case has already been investigated by the bureau, Agent Troi.” Deanna sits on the driver’s side, pulling a bag of chocolate chips from her coat pocket and securing it in one of the cup holders. Beverly raises an eyebrow. “Chocolate chips? Really?” She questions, trying to conceal an amused smile.

Deanna shrugs, grabbing a couple as she starts the car. “Yes, really,” she says, eating the candy and pulling their car out of the lot. Beverly shakes her head, opening the case file in her lap. Deanna gestures with her hand. “You were saying?”

“Right,” Beverly mumbles. “So, we’re not the first to investigate this case?”

“Well, no,” Deanna answers. “The FBI got involved a couple months ago after local law enforcement hit a standstill in their own investigation. Our boys came down, snooped around Stephen F. Austin University, and enjoyed the authentic Mexican cuisine and historical landmarks for about a week before suddenly being called back. Without explanation, the case was reclassified as an X File and condemned to _the_ _abyss.”_ She wiggles her fingers at Beverly dramatically, and the doctor can’t help but find her new partner endearing. “That is, until I discovered it a week ago.”

Beverly nods. “And you found something they didn’t,” she asserts, reaching for one of Deanna’s chocolate chips. Deanna raises her eyebrows at Beverly, a pleasantly surprised smile spreading across her face. Beverly returns the smile, continuing, “The initial autopsy of the human victim, one Angel Rodrigez, done by the county medical examiner shows no evidence of unidentified burns on the lower back and thighs, but an examination later done by the state medical examiner does.”

“Exactly right, Doctor,” Deanna replies, stuffing another handful of chocolate into her mouth. “You’re pretty good.”

“Better than you expected?” Beverly questions, sitting up straighter in her seat.

“Mm, I had no doubt you would be good.” Deanna winks, practically jerking the steering wheel left at an intersection. The turn is somewhat reckless, and incredibly sharp, and Beverly grips the handle above her seat until her knuckles are white.

“Agent Troi, you’re going well over the speed limit! Where the hell did you learn to drive?” Beverly exhales, bringing a hand up to her chest as Deanna slows down.

Deanna chuckles, “Actually, I had my licence revoked last month for speeding.”

Beverly stiffens. She pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling. “Pull over,” she says softly, and Deanna glances at her but doesn’t. Beverly bites her lip briefly before speaking louder. “Stop the damn car, Deanna.” Deanna startles but obligues this time, pulling over onto the side of the road finally. She glances at Beverly with a hint of nervousness. “Get out, we’re switching,” Beverly says, unfastening her seatbelt and opening the door of the passenger side.

Deanna flounders like a fish, opening and closing her mouth. “What? Beverly, I-”

Beverly holds up her hand, putting on her no-nonsense face. “This isn’t up for debate, Deanna. I’m not getting into trouble because you want to drive with an invalid licence. Now, switch seats with me.” Deanna grumbles and unfastens her own seatbelt, exiting the car at the same time as Beverly. They pass each other outside the car, and Deanna pulls a pouty face, staring with big, round eyes at Beverly that almost makes her laugh. Almost. She climbs into the driver’s seat and adjusts it, once more reminded of how tiny Deanna is. She starts the car and pulls back onto the road as Deanna clicks her seatbelt into place. They sit in tense silence, and Beverly tries her hardest to focus on the road and not on how guilty she feels for snapping at Deanna. She does feel guilty, though and it slowly eats at her as she drives, occasionally glancing at her partner now in the passenger seat. She parts her lips several times with the intention of apologizing, but something holds her back. Deanna continues eating her chocolate chips, having retrieved the bag from the cup holder and sitting it in her lap.

Then, Deanna speaks. “You called me Deanna.”

“Huh?” Beverly glances at her briefly, trying not to take her eyes off the road.

Deanna eats a chocolate chip. “Since we met, you’ve only called me “Agent Troi,” but you called me Deanna just now.”

Beverly tries to ignore how hot her face feels. She hadn’t realized she’d used Deanna's first name instead of “Agent Troi.” God, had she already made her partner uncomfortable? Beverly wants nothing more than to sink through her seat and into the earth, right down to the core of the planet and burn up. She’s already feeling on fire. She bites her lip and says, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I won’t-”

“You didn’t,” Deanna interrupts, and her voice is so sincere Beverly can’t help but look at her. Her eyes are soft and shining, and she’s still smiling. It makes Beverly’s chest constrict painful and forces her to focus back on the road. She thinks she should apologize now for being rude, and she tries to build up her courage as the seconds pass.

After a brief pause, Beverly inhales and says, “Listen, Deanna, I- '' She bites her lip, trying to keep her nerve up. “I’m sorry for snapping. It was wrong of me.” Deanna looks at her, head tilted. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Beverly’s anxiety spikes as she waits on a response. She hopes to god she didn’t ruin their partnership before it really even began. But then Deanna smiles, big and bright and lovely, and Beverly exhales with relief.

“Mm, it’s alright,” she tells Beverly. “I shouldn’t have tried driving with a revoked licence.”

Beverly snorts. “I would have to agree,” she quips, and Deanna chuckles, shaking her head. “But I wonder, how have you been getting around without your licence?”

Deanna flushes, looking away. “Well, uhm… I’ve been sort of driving without one.”

Beverly exclaims, “Deanna!”

Deanna breaks out laughing. “I know, I know! But I can’t exactly get a taxi everywhere,” she says miserably, but she’s still smiling. “I’ve had to use my badge a few times with local cops, though. Desperate times.”

Beverly scrunches her brow, laughing incredulously. “I seriously cannot believe you,” the doctor mutters, adjusting the rear view mirror. “From now on, I’m driving. Got it?”

Deanna salutes. “Whatever you say.”

Beverly nods. She pauses, chewing her cheek. “So… I’m forgiven?”

“Of course,” Deanna replies, and Beverly immediately feels relieved. Deanna offers her bag of candies. “Chocolate chip?”

“Eating those the way you do can’t be healthy,” Beverly comments, reaching for one. “Why don’t you eat something healthier, like sunflower seeds or almonds?”

Deanna gazes at her, eyes trailing up and down Beverly, before she says, “I just… like sweet things.” Beverly tries not to shudder.


	2. chapter ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haaaa no beta enjoy !!

_ “Analysis of the burn tissue found on Rodrigez’s body indicates that an unknown chemical compound, likely an industrial acid, was used on the victim after death. All efforts to identity the compound have been unsuccessful, which may point to the perpetrator using-” _

Beverly stops her tape recorder, rubbing her eyes as she lowers the screen of her personal laptop. She’s exhausted from today, after exhuming Angel Rodrigez’s body and performing an autopsy as well as collecting tissue samples for a toxicology analysis. Deanna had let Beverly take the lead when it came to the medical aspect of this case, and while she was busy with that, Deanna had gone over police records as well as the records of the hospital, bringing to light some things that made for a very interesting timeline. For instance, out of the three students to fall into comas, one of them regained consciousness only hours after arriving at the hospital. The boy, Rodney Quinn, had gone missing soon after waking, and he wasn’t found again until the next morning, on the side of the road. Deanna had gone to question him, leaving Beverly to finish her work on Rodrigez’s body. The doctor is totally drained now, after not experiencing such a full schedule since her first days as a field agent. She feels confident in their work, though. For the first time in a very long time, she does.

She pulls her glasses off as a knock echoes through her motel room. She asks, “Who is it?”

_ “Princess Diana,” _ comes Deanna’s reply on the other side of the door, and Beverly chuckles for a moment before crossing the room to let her in. Deanna stands with her ice bucket under her arm and a grin on her face, clad in an oversized shirt tucked into a pair of loose jeans. She looks downright adorable. “I’m just going to get ice, want to come?”

Beverly smiles. “Sure,” she says, reaching for the room key sitting on the end table by the door. She locks her door behind her, joining Deanna as the woman begins to walk in some direction, probably toward the ice machine she mentioned. Beverly squints at the setting sun hitting her eyes directly. “How did it go with Rodney?” She asks, folding her arms over her chest as she walks.

“Well, his mother wouldn’t let me see him for the first fifteen minutes I was there, and she even threatened to get his father involved. Eventually Rodney came down himself to talk,” Deanna says, stuffing one hand into the pocket of her jeans. “He practically recited his statement to the police, word for word. Says he doesn’t remember anything from the night he went missing. Only that it was uh, “hazy,” or something along those lines.”

Beverly nods, pursing her lips. “Do you think he’s one the responsible?”

Deanna stops, and Beverly realizes that they’re standing in front of the ice machine. Deanna hands the doctor the ice bucket as she says, “Would you hold this please?” Beverly accepts it as Deanna opens the lid of the machine and begins scooping out ice. “It’s hard to say. He knows something, but can one eighteen year old boy really kill and exsanguinate over thirty cows without getting caught? Especially with parents as protective as his?”

Beverly taps her fingers against the bucket. “He could have help,” she offers, and Deanna purses her lips, filling up the bucket in her partner’s hands.

“He could,” she says. “I’ve arranged for us to visit the hospital tomorrow. I want to know about what happened to those kids.” She drops the ice scoop and closes the machine, taking the bucket from Beverly with a smile. “Thanks for helping me.”

Beverly shrugs as they begin walking back to their rooms. “It’s no problem.”

Deanna adjusts her posture, glancing up at Beverly, asking, “Have you been able to identify the compound used on Rodrigez?”

Beverly yawns. “Not yet. But I don’t plan to lose any sleep over it,” she answers, her voice tired. She unlocks her door, stepping inside and turning to her partner. “Goodnight, Deanna.”

“Sleep well, Beverly,” Deanna replies, saluting with her index and middle finger before walking off to her own room. Beverly watches her go before closing the door.

  
  


“How long have they been like this, Doctor Martin?” Beverly asks, pulling back the eyelid of patient Trey Lopez. Unresponsive. She pulls back the other lid, with the same result.

The doctor shifts, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Just over three months. We still haven’t been able to identify the cause of these comas, but they are persistive vegetative. We’re giving them the best treatment that we can, considering their conditions.”

Deanna leans over Lopez’s body, asking, “Have you performed any x-rays on these patients, doctor?”

Martin shakes his head. “No, we haven’t,” he replies, “but we have done several MRIs, all inconclusive.” Deanna looks at Beverly, and Beverly tilts her head, wondering what Deanna’s interest is in x-rays. The doctor glances between them. “Do you think an x-ray would be beneficial, Agent Troi?”

“Well, an x-ray could provide different results from an MRI,” Beverly says. “It couldn’t hurt.” As she finishes her statement, the other patient (a girl named Andrea Thompson) body jerks violently, startling Beverly. She jumps back as a nurse rushes over, checking the patient’s vitals.

“I apologize, they are… prone to that on occasion,” Doctor Martin explains.

Deanna raises an eyebrow. “Any reason why?”

“We don’t know,” Doctor Martin replies.

Beverly glances at Deanna, who’s eyes narrow for a split second before she straightens her shoulders and says, “Doctor Martin, I’m wondering if you would allow my partner to perform a cursory medical exam on one of the patients. I-” Suddenly, both patients begin to jerk and trash violently, throwing their bodies side to side in their beds, pulling out IVs and ripping off patches in their wake. Doctor Martin rushes to Thompson’s beside, calling for orderlies. Beverly watches as Deanna rushes to Lopez’s bed, trying to calm him along with another nurse. She briefly pulls up the back of Lopez’s shirt, exposing burn patterns that uncannily resemble those Beverly saw on Rodrigez’s body. She makes eye contact with Deanna before turning on her heel and leaving the room, striding down the hallway and out the front doors of the hospital. She can hear Deanna following her. As she swiftly descends the front steps, she hears Deanna call out, “What’s his name? Trey? Said he was sorry he didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“How did you know he was going to have those burns?” Beverly asks, not slowing her pace.

Deanna replies, “I don’t know. Lucky guess?”

Beverly can feel herself growing irritated with her partner. “Oh cut the crap, Deanna,” she spits, trying her damnedest not to scowl. She crosses the street, looking Deanna in her eyes. “What the hell is going on here? What do you know about those burns, what are they?”

Deanna scoffs. “Why? So you can put it in your little report and send it back to HQ? I don’t think you’re exactly ready for what I think.”

Beverly is well and truly pissed now. She stops, towering over Deanna as she demands, “I am here to solve this case! I want the truth!”

“The truth?” Deanna questions, her voice now dripping with disbelief and sarcasm. She’s looking up at Beverly with a fire in her eyes, and Beverly doesn’t think she’s ready for this side of Deanna. “I think those kids were abducted.”

Beverly sighes, exasperated. “By who?”

“By what.” Deanna counters.

Beverly shakes her head, looking away from the woman. “You can’t honestly stand there and believe that.”

Deanna cocks an eyebrow. “Do you have a better explanation?”

Beverly shakes her head, snapping her eyes back to Deanna. “Those kids are in a vegetative state, Deanna, obviously brought on by some sort of pronounced psychosis, whether brought on by those burns or not, I can’t say. But what I can say is that they haven’t been flying around space in U.F.O.s, Deanna.”

“And you can verify that claim?” Deanna questions hotly, and Beverly scoffs.

“There is nothing to support it!” She exclaims. Rubbing her temples, Beverly can feel a headache coming on. Sighing, she says, “There has to be an explanation. Angel’s body was found, exsanguinated, in the woods, six miles from his house. Every dead cow and sheep was found in or around those woods. How did they get there? Who brought them there?” Deanna looks at her with an unreadable expression, but Beverly shakes her head, chewing her cheek. “I say we go out there tonight,” she declares, hands on her hips. “Are you in?”

Deanna rubs her cheek, before nodding. “Yes. I’m in.”

  
  


The rain is pouring down outside Beverly’s motel room as she types her field report. She recounts their going to the woods after sundown and investigating the area for around an hour before being told to leave by the sheriff, Frederick Quinn. Deanna had been obviously suspicious of him, and Beverly can’t help but express the same sentiment in her report. Why had he been out there so late? Beverly finds it strange that he had forced them out of the woods so harshly, knowing that they were both armed federal agents.  _ He has some nerve, _ Deanna had said from the passenger seat on the drive back to their motel.  _ I think he’s trying to cover something up. _ Beverly had produced a peculiar soil sample (it looked more like ash) she had collected just before the sheriff had caught them, asking if it could have something to do with what was going on. Deanna had glanced at it briefly, before taking a compass from her pocket and checking her watch. Beverly had asked what she was doing, and that was when the bright light had flashed in her eyes, temporarily blinding her. Next thing she knew, the car was dead and Deanna was outside, standing in the middle of the road in the pouring rain, saying something about nine minutes disappearing. Apparently, it’s something to do with aliens and abductions, not that Beverly had understood a word Deanna said. It had taken a good three minutes to convince the woman to get back in the car, Deanna only doing so when the car turned back on. Beverly thought her partner had lost her mind officially. They made it back to the motel in one piece, Deanna all but bolting to her room and saying something about making a few phone calls. Beverly had retreated to her room to finish her report. She taps the period key on her computer as the lights overhead flicker, before completely going out. Beverly glances down, seeing that her computer is dead. She sighs.

“Well that’s just great,” she mumbles, rising from the chair. She rolls her neck, trying to dispel the tension in her upper back from being hunched over her computer. She feels incredibly tense. Doesn’t her bathroom have a tub? She perks up at the thought, knowing a warm bath would relax her. She lights a candle sitting on the nightstand by her bed, stripping down to her underwear and bra in the low light of the flame and discarding her clothes in favor of a robe. The bathroom lights don’t work, but there’s another candle on the toilet bowl. She lights it quickly before placing both candles on the sink. She turns on the water, watching the tub slowly fill as she slides off her robe. She takes in her own body for a second, and then she thinks of Rodrigez’s body, and Lopez’s body, with burns all along their lower backs. Her lower back begins to itch. Her hands move from her hips to the irritated area, and she inhales sharply when she feels uneven, dry skin. Her mind conjures the worst.

Without thinking, Beverly quickly pulls her robe back on and holds it closed with her hand, running from the bathroom to her door, throwing it open. She runs down the hall, all the way to Deanna’s room, knocking with abandon as the sounds echo in the empty corridor. Deanna opens the door only seconds later, a lit candle in her hand, confusion written across her exhausted face.

“Beverly…?” She questions.

Beverly flushes. “I need you to look at something.” Deanna nods, allowing Beverly to enter her room. The doctor steps in, suddenly feeling unsure of herself as Deanna closes the door. Swiftly, she lets go of her robe and allows it to fall around her elbows, exposing her lower back to her partner. She looks over her shoulder at Deanna. The woman’s eyes are wide. Beverly sucks in a breath and holds it as her partner squats, holding the candle up to Beverly’s back. When she feels fingers brush against her skin, she withholds a noise forming in the back of her throat. She’s so touch starved that, for a brief second, the feeling of Deanna’s fingers on her feels…  _ good. _ She tries to ignore it, focusing on the fear that brought her here. “What is it?” She asks nervously, eyes flicking to Deanna. The woman says nothing, still inspecting the skin. Beverly feels her anxiety mount. “Deanna, what is it?” Her fear is evident in her voice, and finally Deanna stands back up. Beverly is suddenly expecting the worst.

But Deanna smiles lightly. “Heat rash,” she says.

Beverly furrows her brow. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s sweltering out there. I’ve got a couple splotches on my calves,” replies Deanna, and Beverly sighs in relief, putting her robe one once more and throwing herself into the arms of her partner. “You okay?” Beverly nods, but she can’t bring herself to move. Deanna holds her loosely, and Beverly takes a moment before stepping away, establishing her composure again. She watches her partner walk off toward her couch, and Beverly decides to follow.

  
  


“I was six when it happened,” Deanna says, her cheek resting on the mattress as her eyes stare at the wall beside Beverly. “My sister was… twelve. She just disappeared one night. No phone call, no ransom note, no evidence, nothing. She was just gone. Vanished into thin air.” Her voice waivers for a second, and Beverly reaches out to take her hand. She’s not sure why she does that. Deanna softens, and Beverly doesn’t regret it.

“You never found her?” Beverly questions gently. She feels like she’s walking on eggshells; she doesn’t want to reopen old wounds.

Deanna sighs. “It broke my mother. She destroyed every picture, every old drawing, every reminder of Kestra in our house. Refused to even acknowledge her. It tore us apart. And there was nothing for us, nothing to bring us closure or give us hope. Just… nothing.” She sounds sad, but her face is emotionless. Beverly wants nothing more than to comfort her, but she’s hardly known Deanna for a couple days. Still, something inside her wants to hold the woman close. She settles for squeezing Deanna’s hand.

“What did you do?” She asks, and Deanna finally looks at her.

“I went to England to attend university,” she replies simply. “Came back to America once I had graduated, got recruited by the bureau not long after. It seemed I was particularly good at applying behavioral models to criminal cases. I was… successful.”

Beverly nods. “Now that I know,” she remarks with a smile. “It seemed like everyone was talking about you for a while.”

“All bad, I hope,” Deanna jokes, and it makes Beverly laugh. She shakes her head as the woman continues. “That success was like a doorway for me, to explore my interests. That’s when I found the X Files.” Beverly leans in, listening more intently. Deanna, whether consciously or unconsciously (she can’t tell), moves to sit closer to her. “In the beginning, it was just a file dump for abduction reports and U.F.O. sightings, the sort of cases that everyone shrugs off as phony. But I read every file there was - I was intrigued. Anything from the occult to the paranormal to the supernatural, I couldn’t help myself, and…” She trails off, and it’s like something switches in her eyes.

“What?” Beverly questions, moving even closer than before.

Deanna looks away and chews her cheek. “I’ve been trying to access classified government information for weeks now, but someone is blocking every one of my attempts to get it.”

“I don’t understand,” Beverly murmurs. “Who would do that?”

Deanna shrugs. “Someone in a higher position of power?” She sighs, rubbing her forehead. “The only reason I’ve been allowed to even  _ look _ at the X Files - let alone work on them - is because of my connections in congress.”

Beverly sits up. “What exactly are they afraid of? Do they think you’ll leak this information if you get a hold of it?” She asks.

Deanna looks Beverly in her eyes before casting her gaze away. “You’re a part of that agenda, Beverly,” she says solemnly. “You know that.”

Beverly swings her legs over the side of the bed, sliding down to sit beside Deanna on the floor. “I’m not a part of any agenda,” she tells Deanna, and she means it. “You have to trust me, Deanna.” Deanna’s eyes lock onto hers, and Beverly is stunned by the intensity in those dark irises. Her lips part, and Beverly holds her breath, wondering what she’ll say. But the telephone rings, loudly and obnoxiously, cutting through their moment. Deanna manages to stand up on her feet before walking to the phone.

“Hello?” She says, and she sounds somewhat irritated. Her brow furrows. “What? Who is this?” She questions demandingly. Beverly stands up. “Who is th-” Deanna cuts off, lowering the receiver from her ear.

“Who was that?” Beverly asks, walking toward her.

“It was some kid,” Deanna says. “He said that Andrea Thomspon was dead.”

Beverly furrows her brow. “Andrea Thompson? One of the kids in a coma?”


	3. chapter iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha, so this chapter is a dozy. idk how i feel about it but here it is. now onto more interesting (and more gay) episodes !! no beta btw sorry for being stupid as rocks

Deanna drives them to the scene because she’s reckless enough to speed. After the boy had hung up, local police called to say that Andrea Thompson was _missing_ from her hospital bed and was last seen near Orton Lake. It was enough to get them scrambling out of Deanna’s motel room, Deanna with the car keys in hand, and Beverly safely dressed in Deanna’s clothes (there hadn’t been enough time for her to change into her own clothing). Beverly doesn’t notice when Deanna goes over the legal speed limit (or maybe she’s purposefully ignoring it) because her eyes are trained out the window. She feels so on edge, and so… _confused_ by such an intimate moment with her partner followed by such a strange phone call. She wants to ask about it, but she doesn’t know what she would say. She bites her lip, and at the same time, Deanna’s hand finds hers. It’s more comforting than Beverly expected, Deanna’s touch, but it’s unwelcome in the slightest. Beverly squeezes her partner’s hand, but her gaze doesn’t wander from the window.

The second the car is stopped by the lake, Beverly is climbing out of the passenger seat, releasing Deanna’s hand as she rushes to where a small crowd has gathered near the shore. From the outside, she can see a mess of damp hair and pale, grey skin. She swallows, going slack for a moment. Andrea Thompson _is_ dead. She straightens her back, clearing her throat. The few people around glance at her. She reaches for her badge, flashing it swiftly.

“FBI, I’m a medical doctor,” she says sternly, hoping her voice won’t betray how suddenly startled she is. “Let me see the body.” The crowd parts without hesitation, and Beverly drops to her knees beside the poor dead girl. A rattled paramedic hands her a pair of gloves, and she pulls them on, beginning a crude examination. She notes a watch on Thompson’s right wrist, but it’s stopped at 9:07 p.m. exactly. Shuddering, she keeps going. All evidence points to drowning by complete submersion in a watery environment, but that doesn’t account for the puncture marks on the girl’s collarbone. Beverly furrows her brow. Exsanguination? She won’t know for certain until she does an autopsy of the victim, but if this death is anything like Rodrigez or the cattle, Beverly would bet money on those punctures being the exsanguination sight. Furrowing her brow, she remembers Angel’s body and gently turns Thompson on her side, lifting the hospital gown. She releases a shuddering sigh; there are burn marks. She has to tell Deanna.

She discards the latex gloves and rises to her feet, scanning the crowd for her partner. She spies the woman with a police officer, rubbing her face and speaking exasperatedly. Beverly chews her lip, worried. She half-runs, half-jogs to Deanna, about to ask what’s happening on her end when Deanna shoos the officer away and turns to Beverly.

“We have to go,” Deanna tells her, and her hand makes contact with Beverly lower back as she ushers her toward the car.

“What?” Beverly questions, scrunching her brow.

“Someone broke into the lab and stole Rodrigez’s body,” her partner answers, unlocking the car doors. “The entire place is trashed, everything stolen. We need to get to the motel.”

Beverly follows, falling into the passenger seat. “They stole the corpse?” Deanna nods grimly, starting the car and hitting the gas, swerving them onto the main road. She’s speeding again, and Beverly thinks she should say something this time. The words die in her throat as she thinks about Andrea Thompson’s body. Swallowing, she turns to look at the woman in the driver’s seat. “I was able to examine Thompson’s body.” Deanna raises her eyebrows. Beverly clears her throat. “It looks like she died from drowning, but there were puncture marks on her collarbone and burns along her lower back. It’s-”

“Just like Rodrigez,” Deanna finished, eyes trained on the road.

Beverly shakes her head. “But if this is the same killer, why was she drowned?”

Deanna glances at Beverly, clicking her tongue. “Maybe… something went wrong.” They share a look between them, and Beverly wants to shrink under Deanna’s intense gaze. She chews her cheek, casting her own gaze out the window. Deanna makes a sharp turn, hitting the gas a little harder and making them go faster. They arrive at the motel soon, but not soon enough. Beverly gasps when she sees smoke. Deanna practically throws herself out of the car, running toward the now on fire motel. Beverly chases after her, flashing her FBI badge to the police and firefighters trying to keep Deanna away.

“There goes my report,” Beverly says solemnly.

“Damn it!” Deanna hisses, stomping her foot. “The x-rays and pictures were in my room!” Beverly rubs her eyes, slouching her posture as a terrible tension collects in her shoulders. What the hell is happening? Deanna shakes her head, gritting her teeth as her dark eyes stare at the burning fire. They’re silent for a moment, and Beverly reaches out to take Deanna’s hand in her own. The woman nearly deflates, her shoulders sagging. She looks grateful. 

“What do we do now?” Beverly asks.

Deanna squeezes her hand, eyes trained on the fire being hastily put out. “I don’t know,” she says, stepping closer to the doctor. But then her hand draws away as a scrawny boy approaches them. He tugs his coat tightly around himself, trying to look as small as possible. Beverly watches as Deanna recognizes him.

“Rodney?” She questions, staring at the boy. “Rodney Quinn?”

Beverly turns her gaze to Rodney, her jaw dropping. The boy shies away, whimpering, “Agent Troi, I need your help. You have to protect me.”

  
___

Beverly watches carefully as they guide Rodney into a diner not far from their (now charred) motel. Deanna leans up on her toes and whispers something in the doctor’s ear about buying food for the kid, and Beverly nods, affirming that she’ll find them a table. Deanna smiles, placing a hand on her shoulder before walking off. Beverly softens for a bit, eyes following Deanna before shaking her head and leading Rodney to a table in the back of the diner. He sits with his back straight, eyes wide and terrified. He knows something, that much is obvious, but he’s scared. There has to be more than just him involved in all this. Beverly sits finally, taking a seat across from the boy as she asks, “Rodney, do you know something about what’s been happening?”

The boy wrings his hands, his eyes darting all around the diner as Deanna approaches their table with a receipt in hand. He nods as she sits beside Beverly. “It - it started just after Andrea and Trey fell into those comas,” he says shakily, and Beverly can see the dark bags under his eyes. “The cattle… Angel...” He swallows, running a hand through his hair. “I used to have nightmares, about the cattle being killed in the woods?” He shakes his head. “Every time I had one, more cattle would be found dead. All their blood drained.” Beverly looks to Deanna, whose eyes are already glancing at her. Rodney’s hands begin to tremble, and he stares at the beige tabletop. “I thought it was a coincidence, b-but then… I saw Angel in a nightmare. And now he’s-he’s-” He cuts himself off and clasps his hands together, lowering them into his lap.

“You knew Angel was dead before the police did?” Deanna questions.

Rodney nods, rubbing his face. “Yes,” he says, averting his eyes. “I always know. And it’s happening to all my friends now. Angel, Andrea… _”_ He glances out the window then. “I don’t want to be next.” He shakes his head again, beginning to rock. “That’s why I need you guys. I don’t wanna die. Not like Andrea.”

Beverly furrows her brow. “Angel Rodrigez was your friend?”

Rodney nods. “We’re both from here. I’ve known him since middle school,” he says solemnly. “He was supposed to be with us, but he-” Rodney’s voice breaks.

Deanna purses her lips. “Your father is the sheriff, isn’t he?” She asks, and then her eyes light up. “You were the one who called me on the phone. You told me that Andrea Thompson was dead before anyone else.” Rodney nods, wringing his hands again. Deanna looks like she has more to say, but then a waiter comes by with their order, placing down a plate in front of Rodney and two cups of coffee in front of Deanna and Beverly. The boy stares at the food blankly before lifting his fork and eating, looking almost ravenous.

Beverly pours a bit of creamer into her coffee, asking, “Rodney, your father knows about this, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Rodney says, lowering his fork. “But he’s always said I could never tell anyone. Not the police, not my mom. And especially not the FBI.” He looks guilty, glancing between both agents.

Deanna leans forward, drinking her coffee. “Why?”

Rodney shrugs. “He doesn’t believe me? He doesn’t want me to cause a scene?” He says, taking a bite of his eggs. “Maybe he thinks he can protect me. But after tonight, I don’t think he can.”

“Do you have the burns on your back?” Beverly asks, and something in her hopes to God he doesn’t. But, slowly, he nods his head.

“Yeah,” he utters nervously, dropping his fork altogether. Deanna and Beverly share a look again, and this time, Beverly can see a flash of worry in her partner’s eyes. The boy shudders, hiding his face. “That’s it. I’m gonna die, aren’t I? I’m next!”

“You’re not going to die,” Deanna says, and Beverly can hear her determination as if Deanna herself will stop anything from happening to this poor boy. But then a bell rings, causing all of them to turn to the diner doors as Sheriff Quinn enters. He spots them within seconds, tramping his way through the tables toward his son. Beverly and Deanna both stand as if to guard Rodney, but there’s a shared knowledge between them that they both can’t do much.

“C’mon Rod, let’s go home,” says Sheriff Quinn, grabbing Rodney by the back of his jacket and pulling him out of his seat. It boils Beverly’s blood to see how rough he is with his son. “Get walking!”

“I don’t think he wants to leave,” Deanna says.

Quinn stares her down, and Beverly tries not to look intimidated (even if Quinn isn’t looking at her). “I don’t care what the hell you think!” He replies gruffly. “He’s a jackass kid, and he’s _my_ son. I’ll handle him.” With that, he pushes Rodney’s back, forcing him to walk. The boy looks back, sending an absolutely terrified look to Beverly, and the doctor can’t stop herself from following them outside, watching as Sheriff Quinn drives off with Rodney in his car. She sighs, rubbing her forehead.

“You gotta love this place, Beverly,” Deanna pipes up from behind her. “Every day’s like Halloween.”

Beverly shakes her head. “He knows, Deanna,” she says. “He knows who killed Angel and Andrea, who’s been killing those cattle.”

“He knows something,” Deanna replies, rubbing her chin.

“Sheriff Quinn has been hiding evidence, Deanna. He would have had access to the autopsy files to remove the information on those burns. And didn’t Rodney just tell us his father wouldn’t let him speak to anyone?” Beverly adjusts the collar of the shirt she’s wearing, trying to ignore that it’s not her shirt. “He threw us out of the forest the second he found us investigating, and now he knows that we’ve spoken to his son. Who else would have a reason to destroy the lab and burn our motel?”

“Why would he destroy evidence? What does he want with that corpse?” Deanna shoots back, and Beverly casts her gaze away, shaking her head. She doesn’t know. Deanna takes a step closer to her. “Makes you wonder about Andrea Thompson’s body.”

  
  


Beverly quickly descends the steps of the police station, running a hand through her hair as she sighs. She spots Deanna in the rental car just down the street and briskly approaches. Deanna turns the car on as she sees Beverly drawing near, holding out a styrofoam cup as the woman drops into the passenger seat. “Coffee,” she offers sweetly, with a smile. “I only put creamer in, I wasn’t sure how you liked it.”

Beverly takes the cup. “Creamer is fine, thank you,” she says drinking it.

“So, any luck with Thompson’s body?” Deanna asks, sipping her coffee. It looks creamy and judging on what she eats, Beverly would wager there’s far too much sugar in there. Deanna’s sweet tooth is almost endearing.

“You won’t believe this, Deanna,” she says. “The police told me that Andrea Thompson’s body is unaccounted for.”

“Unaccounted for? What do you mean, unaccounted for?” Deanna demands, and Beverly shakes her head.

“They don’t have it,” she replies. “Or at least, that’s what I was told.” Deanna scoffs, taking a sip of her coffee. They sit in silence, and Beverly is beginning to prefer when Deanna is talking about her spooky theories. She sips her coffee, trying to resist watching Deanna out of the corner of her eye. In the last few hours, whenever they were silent like this, one of them would reach out for the other. It would just happen. But Beverly doesn’t know if this is the moment for something like that. Still, she can’t deny the urge building up in her hand. She already appreciates their physicality with one another. Even if she’s known Deanna for what? Three days? Beverly has found Deanna to be very... _likable._

“I think I know who did it,” Deanna says suddenly. Beverly glances at her. “I think I knew who killed Angel Rodrgiez.”

“Who?” Beverly questions. “Sheriff Quinn?”

Deanna shakes her head. “Rodney Quinn, and Trey Lopez.”

Beverly scoffs this time, looking away from Deanna. “The boy who’s terrified of his own shadow, and the boy in a coma? They committed these crimes?”

“Andrea Thompson was in a coma, and yet they still found her body in Orton Lake,” Deanna says. “I’m not making this up! It all fits the profile of alien abduction.”

“This fits a profile?” Beverly questions, withholding a laugh.

“Listen, Andrea Thompson went missing from the hospital around nine o’clock, which is exactly when we lost nine minutes on the road. I think something happened in those nine minutes. I think time, as we know it, stopped, and something took control of it!” Beverly looks at her and can’t tell if she’s serious. Deanna seems so convinced, it’s almost inspiring. She looks away, unsure of how to respond. Deanna speaks: “You think I’m crazy.” Beverly wants to reply, but something stops her. She thinks about Andrea Thompson, about her body washed up the shore. Deanna regards her. “What is it?”

Beverly opens her mouth, but she pauses. “Andrea Thompson’s watch stopped at nine o’seven exactly. I noted it when I was examining her body,” she says carefully.

“That’s the reason the kids are coming to the forest, they’re being summoned there, and those burns on their lower backs have to be from some kind of test being done on them, which could be the reason we can’t identify the chemical acid used on them.”

“And the forest summoned Andrea Thompson into the woods tonight?” Beverly questions.

Deanna exclaims, “Yes! But it was Rodney Quinn and Trey Lopez who took her there. Guided by some alien impulse!” Beverly chuckles, shaking her head as she looks at Deanna. They giggle together, leaning toward one another, and after a moment, Beverly realizes she’s holding Deanna’s hand again. She laughs once more, dropping her empty coffee cup in the drink holder. Deanna grins at her, reaching her free hand out to brush a stray hair from Beverly’s face. “Let’s get out of here,” she says, pulling her hand away and starting the car.

Beverly leans back in her seat, still smiling. “Where are we going?”

“I was thinking that we should drop by and visit our friend, Trey,” Deanna replies.

  
___

“I know that Doctor Martin likes to be optimistic, but he’s new here,” says Nurse Bell. “I’ve been working in this ward for the last ten years and I can tell you that the chances of Trey waking up out of his comas are slim. Sure he thrashes sometimes, but waking up? Ain’t gonna happen.” Beverly stands at the end of Lopez’s bed, observing the boy. He looked so… _inactive._ She just can’t bring herself to believe he’s somehow involved. Hell, she believes Rodney is more likely than Trey.

“Is it safe to assume you were on duty last night? On this floor?” Deanna asks the nurse, arms crossed over her chest. The woman nods, checking Trey’s IVs and vitals. “Did you notice anything unusual or strange?”

“Strange?” The nurse questions. Deanna moves closer and continues to ask questions. Beverly looks down at the end of the bed, noticing how dirty the sheets are. She purses her lips; it looks like actual _dirt._ Swiftly, she lifts the blankets off of Lopez’s feet, gasping. There’s soil everywhere, the sheets, the blanket, the socks. She pulls off one of his socks as the nurse asks, “What is she doing?” Deanna distracts her with another question. Beverly holds the sock in the light, wondering how the hell there could be dirt on a comatose boy’s sock. She thinks about the soil sample she lost in the motel fire and inhales sharply. Was he in the forest? Could he actually have been involved?

“Deanna, take a look at this,” Beverly calls out to her partner. The woman moves to stand next to her, eyeing the garment. She turns back to the nurse.

“Do you know who was watching Andrea Thompson?” She asks.

“Nurse Colton, I think, but she has today off,” the woman replies. “You know, I am on the clock right now. I have a job I need to be doing.”

Deanna nods. “I understand. Thank you for your time ma’am,” she says, guiding Beverly out of the room and into the corridor. “Have a good day.” The door closes behind them, and Beverly starts walking down the hallway, clutching the sock.

“That kid may have killed Andrea Thompson, I don’t believe it!” Beverly exclaims.

Deanna follows her. “Beverly-”

“It’s impossible!” Beverly goes on. “He was in the woods. The dirt on this sock is the same stuff I took a sample of in the forest last night.”

Deanna nods, saying, “Well we should do an analysis, get a new s-”

Beverly cuts her off. “We lost the original sample in the fire, but Deanna what else could this possibly be?”

“I’m not disagreeing, Beverly, but I want you to understand what you’re saying,” Deanna retorts, putting her hand on Beverly’s shoulder and stopping their forward motion.

Beverly scoffs. “You said it yourself!”

Deanna counters, “And you have to write it down in your report.”

Beverly freezes, her blood going cold. She blinks, straightening her back as she tries to calm herself. She’s getting too carried away with all this, with Deanna. Her beliefs are so infectious, Beverly nearly started believing them. Inhaling, she tries to clear her mind for what to do next. She realizes she can be jumping to conclusions, not like Deanna. She has to be scientific, she’s a doctor for goodness sake. They need a new sample to test, and then they’ll know for sure.

“You’re right,” Beverly sighs, rubbing her forehead. “We should collect a new sample from the forest and run a comparison before we start hopping to conclusions.”

Deanna nods. “Alright.”

  
___

Beverly sits in the new motel room, trying to recall what happened in the woods just an hour before. She and Deanna had gone back for a new soil sample, splitting up when they heard what sounded like two different people in the forest with them. Someone had hit Beverly on the back of her head, the pounding headache behind her eyes proof enough, and ran off, clearly in search of Deanna. When she came to, there was a light, brighter than anything she had ever seen before. It blinded her entirely. When it was gone, she went looking for Deanna, and found her in a clearing, along with Trey Lopez, Rodney Quinn, and Sheriff Quinn. The burns on the boys’ lower backs were gone, along with any memories of what happened that night. Now she’s in a motel room with two twin beds, waiting for Deanna to come back with dinner. She rubs her temples; is this how all their cases will go?

She lays back on her bed when the door unlocks, and Deanna enters, a bag of food in hand. She smiles cheerfully, “I brought dinner.” She kicks off her shoes, leaving them right by the door before she moves and passes by Beverly's bed.

“Thank god, I’m starving,” Beverly says, sitting up.

“How’s your headache?” Deanna asks, setting the bag on the nightstand.

“Manageable,” she says, reaching for the food. “Burgers? Really, Deanna?” She questions, raising an eyebrow at Deanna. The woman blushes, shrugging.

“It was all that’s open right now,” she replies, pulling out a bag of fries. “And I paid for it, so don’t be ungrateful.”

Beverly chuckles, retrieving her burger and fries. “I’m not being ungrateful, but you should mind what you eat. Chocolate chips, coffee, and fast food don’t do wonders for the body.”

“Thank you, doctor, I’ll be sure to remember that,” Deanna quips. She smiles as she pulls out two soda cans. “I got you a soda too, but I’m fearful of another health lecture.”

Beverly narrows her eyes, but she’s chuckling again, shaking her head. “I’ll spare you this time, but you might want to consider healthier living sometime, Deanna.”

“Only if you’ll be my personal nutritionist,” Deanna says in return, taking a large bite of her burger. She plops herself down onto the bed next to Beverly, a happy smile on her face. Beverly wonders how she can be so chippy after everything that has happened tonight. She takes a bite of her own burger, trying to process everything. Deanna gazes at her. “Something on your mind?” She asks, opening her soda.

Beverly shakes her head. “It’s just been a lot to take in,” she says. “And I don’t feel like I can substantiate what exactly happened.”

Deanna nods. “I understand,” she tells Beverly, scooting closer to her. “It was pretty intense, even for me.”

Beverly laughs outright, nudging her. “Yeah, right. You looked practically at home out there.” Deanna joins in with her own laughter, ducking her head to hide her smile. Her cheeks are tinged red, and it makes Beverly’s own face warm. She glances away.

“How about we put on a movie. It’ll take your mind off of things,” Deanna offers, gesturing to the television across from the bed. Beverly nods, watching as Deanna stands and finds the remote for the TV, turning it on and flipping through the channels. She stands with her back to Beverly, and the doctor focuses her gaze on the burger in her hands and not on Deanna’s figure. It’s a very nice figure though, and Beverly definitely allows herself to sneak a glance. They’re not on duty anymore, their case is… kind of closed, and they’re already fraternizing. What’s the harm in a look? Deanna’s wearing another oversized shirt tucked into jeans, but she’s still wearing her jacket and it’s big enough to swallow her up. Her jeans do accentuate her ass, though. Beverly’s sure that her face is as red as the ketchup on her burger, but she can't stop looking at Deanna. She’s still gorgeous, even without makeup, even with her hair pulled up into a ponytail, and even when she’s not rattling off insane theories. Beverly finally manages to look away, once Deanna settles on a TV channel playing a movie.

“I hope you like A Streetcar Named Desire,” Deanna says, placing the remote on top of the television and joining Beverly on the bed again.

Beverly smiles, trying to appear nonchalant. “You know, I played Blanche in a theatre production at my university,” she says.

Deanna’s eyes light up. “Did you?” She questions, her big grin returning to her face.

“Mhm. I had to wear a blonde wig and everything,” Beverly replies, eating a fry. “Of course, this was years ago.”

“I’m sure you were amazing,” Deanna says easily, her eyes flicking between the TV to Beverly. Is she closer, or is Beverly imagining things? She turns her attention to the TV, trying not to think about it too much. Except she’s terrible at that, and now her mind has fixated. She’s better about keeping herself to herself now than when she was at university and medical school. In college, she kissed just about every woman she thought was beautiful. But that was when she was young and loud. Now she’s a field agent again, and this is her partner, who she’ll have to work with for the foreseeable future. Besides, who knows what kind of reaction Deanna might have? Though, she doesn’t strike Beverly as entirely hetero.

“How’s your food?” Deanna asks.

“It’s greasy,” Beverly replies, deadpan. Deanna chortles, handing her face behind her hand. Beverly smiles. “I’m kidding, well - mostly. It’s good.”

“I’m glad.” Deanna looks at her, her expression suddenly sympathetic. “Um, Beverly?”

“Hm?”

Deanna gestures to her face. “You’ve got some ketchup, right here,” she says, pointing to Beverly’s mouth. “It’s in the corner.” Beverly tries to wipe at it, but Deanna’s laughter confirms that every attempt misses entirely. She sighs helplessly, to which Deanna chuckles, “Here, let me.” She grabs a napkin, leaning into Beverly’s space. Her eyes are lowered to Beverly’s lips, and when the napkin touches the corner of her mouth, Beverly almost jerks. But it’s like she fixed to the spot, unable to move. Then, Deanna pulls away slightly. “There, got it.”

“Thank you,” Beverly murmurs softly, and it’s as if she can hear her own heartbeat. She really shouldn’t. They’re both agents. They’re both _women._ There are too many repercussions. But Deanna is still so close, and something about the look in her eyes makes her question how bad it would be if they-

_“STELLA!”_

They put apart, eyes snapping back to the television screen. The movie is still on, and Beverly thanks God that it is. Something nearly came over her. Shaking her head, she wraps up what’s left of her burger and places it back in the bag, no longer hungry. It’s better if she focuses on the movie, and not on the woman beside her. She hears Deanna clear her throat and drink from her soda can. There’s a tension to their silence, and Beverly can’t stand it. She wonders if she’s imagining it, if she’s just projecting her own feelings into the room. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

“Beverly?”

Deanna speaks softly, and Beverly turns her head to look at her. Then the woman’s hands are cupping her cheeks, pulling her in, pressing their lips together. Beverly knows she shouldn’t, but she responds to the kiss eagerly, returning the same fervor that Deanna offers her. Deanna’s lips taste like the soda she’s been drinking, and Beverly can’t seem to stop her. Deanna is a _very_ good kisser, and Beverly doesn’t think anything could have prepared her for how soft Deanna’s lips are. Her hands go to her partner’s cheeks as Deanna moves to wrap her arms around Beverly’s neck, bringing her closer. She moans when Beverly deepens their kiss, and Beverly feels lightheaded at the sound. She releases Deanna’s mouth, pressing hot, quick kisses along her jaw and down her neck before returning once more to her lips. One of Deanna’s hands has moved to clutch her hair. Part of Beverly wonders how far they’ll go, and that part swiftly takes over her decision making.

She pulls away, panting. Deanna’s cheeks are flushed, her pupils dilated, her lips swollen. No doubt Beverly looks the same. They gaze at one another before Beverly says, “We shouldn’t.”

Deanna watches her. “Right,” she says. “We shouldn’t.”

Beverly feels awful suddenly. “I’m sorry.”

Deanna smiles and shakes her head. “Don’t be. I’m the one who should be sorry.” Beverly wonders if that means she _isn’t._

Rising, the doctor runs a hand through her hair. “I’m going to… shower,” she says, thinking it’s best to put some distance between them. If not, she’s not sure what she’ll do. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

Deanna shrugs. “Take your time.” Beverly nods, retreating to the bathroom. Her back to the door, she looks at herself in the mirror, with her red cheek and ravished hair. _Great job, Howard,_ she thinks to herself, turning the tabs and starting the shower. How the hell is she supposed to be a part of the X Files now? Beverly undresses, and tries (in vain) not to think of how nice Deanna’s lips felt. God, how is she supposed to survive the flight back to Washington, D.C. tomorrow?

**Author's Note:**

> leave a kudos or comment if u enjoyed this and find me on tumblr @ stonktrek


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